


Babies Aren't Science Projects

by CrownedAnxietyAttack



Series: Babies Aren't Science Projects [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Family, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:42:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7534933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrownedAnxietyAttack/pseuds/CrownedAnxietyAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford tries to take care of baby shapeshifter by himself but is horrible at it, so Fiddleford reluctantly comes over to teach him how to dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babies Aren't Science Projects

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt. And is very old work XD

Fiddleford wasn’t easily pissed off. He really wasn’t. But when someone calls him at three o’clock in the morning and demands that he get out of bed he’d only been sleeping in for two hours, he’s going to want to rip off at _least_ one head.

However, Fiddleford is a _good_ boyfriend. So even though he’s _this close_ to taking a banjo to Stanford’s head, he’s going to get out of bed, and help him any way he can.

The moment he heard painfully shrill baby screeches coming from inside Stanford’s house, he almost turned around and went straight back home. But he swallowed the urge and walked right up to the door and knocked on the harsh wood door. Fiddleford glanced down at his knuckles, half expecting to see splinters. He needed to tell Ford to get that fixed. He was suddenly bathed in yellow light and he glanced up to see Stanford standing before him. His face was unshaven and his hair more unkempt than usual and…was his eye twitching?

“Ford…are you okay?” Fiddleford asked, forgetting his rage and becoming heavily concerned for his boyfriend. That’s when the blonde realized there was a screaming bundle of joy in Stanford’s arms. “Is that-”

“It won’t stop. It literally won’t stop crying. I don’t know what to do. It won’t sleep, it won’t eat, all there is is screaming. So. Much. Screaming,” Ford said, staring straight at Fiddleford with blank eyes.

That was disturbing.

“Okay, **what** is screaming?” Fiddleford asked.

Stanford blinked a few times before his eyes seemed to focus on the blonde’s face and he looked down in his arms. Fiddleford followed his gaze and saw the white form curled up angrily in his arms. It was the Shapeshifter that Ford had found in the woods a few weeks ago. That thing gave him the creeps. Fiddleford’s nose wrinkled at the sight of it but said nothing about it’s appearance. Ford had grown attached to it and Fiddleford wasn’t one to split up families. He personally knew how that felt and…he wasn’t a big fan. Fiddleford rubbed his face and sighed. “When did this start?” Fids asked.

“When I tried to feed him. It. It was around seven and I was trying to feed him but he wouldn’t take it. Thinking he was full, I tried to put him to bed but he just started screaming his head off _and I’m so tired_ ,” Ford said, almost like he was going to sob. Fiddleford wanted to smack him, but he refrained from doing so.

“First of all, let’s get inside. I’m cold and I’m sure that thing is cold too, especially since it’s pretty much naked,” Fiddleford said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Stanford nodded in agreement and quickly retreated back into his house, Fiddleford following him closely.

Fiddleford forced Ford to sit down on the couch as he rocked the crying creature, mumbling to himself like a lunatic. He didn’t know which was more concerning, the fact that he was rocking a monster like a baby, or talking to himself under his breath. Fiddleford whipped up a fresh batch of formula specially made by Ford for his little monster and brought the bottle to Stanford. “Here, try to feed it again,” he said, offering him the bottle. Ford rolled the squirming creature onto his back and took the bottle from his boyfriend and tried to get the Shapeshifter to eat. Practically begging. Fiddleford frowned when he saw how much the creature struggled against Ford and how forceful Ford was being.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Ford, stop. Yer gonna hurt it if you do that. It doesn’t look comfortable. Hold ‘im up instead and don’t pressure it so much,” Fiddleford ordered. Ford glanced up at the blonde and just stared.

“I…I literally have no idea what you’re saying. I think Shifty broke my brain. Here, you take him and show me,” Ford said, holding the Shapeshifter up to Fiddleford.

The engineer never jumped back from something so fast before. “ **No**! No. I-I don’t need to t-touch him. You can do this,”Fiddleford said shakily. His guts twisted uncomfortably at the sight of the creature up close. The creature was so _ugly_ and _alien_ looking with it’s bulging eyes and pale, vein-y skin, and all of that _slime_. It was like a fucked up version of a chihuahua.

“Fiddleford.”

The blonde looked away from the repulsive creature to his exhausted boyfriend. His scruffy face looked pathetic and was only made more so with his eyes large and begging.

“Fiddleford…please? For me?”

Fiddleford’s fists clenched in frustration as he mentally screamed every curse word that existed before calming himself down and letting out a loud sigh. He held out his hands for the creature and a huge, sparkling smile engulfed Ford’s face. He happily handed the baby to Fiddleford, who used every ounce of his strength of will to not barf the moment the Shapeshifter’s slimy skin touched his fingertips. The little monster was still screaming his head off and he didn’t look any happier in the blonde’s arms. _Just feed it, and give it back. Just feed it, and give it back;_ Fiddleford chanted in his head. He cradled the shifter into the crook of his elbow, standing him up instead of laying him down, his hand curving up to hold his pudgy belly. Fiddleford took the bottle from Ford and held it towards the creature’s mouth. The monster continued to cry, not seeming to notice the bottle. “Come on. It’s okay. Can you eat for me?” Fiddleford asked softly. The shifter only cried in return and Fiddleford groaned. That’s when he heard it. The voice was soft and faint, but the words were clear. Fiddleford glanced up from his arms to see Ford slouching deep in the couch with his eyes closed and his body relaxed. He would’ve thought that the man was asleep if he hadn’t seen his lips moving or heard the soft melody falling from his lips. Ford wasn’t one for singing. He’d occasionally hum, but he would never sing. But here he was, half asleep and singing Brahms Lullaby like he rehearsed it every day of his life. His voice seemed to take affect on the Shapeshifter, his crying becoming quieter as time passed, when he suddenly opened his mouth wide, pincers clicking to show that he wanted food. Fiddleford pushed the bottle forward and nearly cried when the little monster began to suck on the nipple. Fiddleford let out a sigh and relaxed his shoulders, smiling down at the creature. “That’s a good boy,” he cooed.

Stanford finished the lullaby and opened his eyes, smiling at the sight before him. Fiddleford was smiling down at the shifter who was greedily eating his food. Stanford shifted his weight to expose a tight spot for Fiddleford to squeeze into and the blonde eagerly took it, gently sitting down so as not to disturb the shifter. Ford tossed and arm over Fiddleford’s shoulders and gave him a gentle kiss on his temple. “Thank you _so much_ ,” he whispered. Fiddleford chuckled and nodded. They sat in a long moment of silence, watching as the Shapeshifter took a short break from his food before eagerly asking for more.

“Do you miss this?”

Fiddleford froze at the question. He was talking about Tate. Fiddleford’s eyes saddened and his smile faltered. He let out a sigh before answering. “Yes and no. I love children, especially my own, but…I don’t think I could ever take that risk again,” he replied.

“Risk?”

“The risk of never seeing them again,” Fiddleford answered quietly. Ford only hummed in reply, but his arm pulled the blonde closer and Fiddleford smiled at the comfort. It had been a year since he last saw his little boy Tate. He even missed his birthday because his wife, **ex** -wife, refused to let him see his son. He respected her wishes, but it was hard. He wasn’t even sure his little boy loved him anymore.

“It’d be hard to stop loving you,” Ford said. Fiddleford blinked at him. He hadn’t even realized he had been talking out loud. Fiddleford smiled at the brunette.

“Are you confessing?” he asked.

“You act like this is the first time I’ve said it.”

“This is the second time you’ve said it.”

“Well you’ve only said it once. I’m doing a hell of a lot better than you.”

Fiddleford snickered at Ford’s joke, making the brunette smile at his reaction.

“Well, let me remedy that,” Fiddleford said, turning his head to face Ford head on, “I love you, Ford~.” Fiddleford batted his eyelashes madly and had made his voice annoyingly squeaky and high, trying to imitate a girl’s voice. Stanford snorted and rolled his eyes as Fiddleford snickered again. The Shapeshifter finished his meal and burped loudly, making both men struggle to hold in their laughter. The shifter curled up into a tight ball in Fiddleford’s and slowly drifted off to sleep.

“Can you do this every night?” Ford asked, staring down at the Shapeshifter in wonder.

“If you call me at three a.m. again I will kill you,” Fiddleford said with a glare.

Stanford laughed and pressed his head against the blonde’s.

“I wouldn’t have to if you lived here,” Stanford said, half awake.

Fiddleford blushed at his words and smiled. He opened his mouth to agree when he heard Ford snore loudly in his ear. He chuckled once more and snuggled up next to Ford, holding the Shapeshifter tightly in his arms.

“That wouldn’t be half bad.”


End file.
